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Lisa Linton
Personal Details Name: Lisa Linton Age: Around 16 at the time of the Thrun Invasion, reports say she now looks no older than 19-21. True age speculated at. Sex: Female Race: Human Children: Juilet Linton (daughter) Ingame Portrait link: http://nwvault.ign.com/View.php?view=Portraits.Detail&id=2828 Basic Description Face: Her features are sharp, and distinct. High cheek bones and soft almost flawless skin. Hair: Long Red hair falls about her face, seeming to always be silky and clean. Eyes: Pale Blue, with a few red flecks Skin: She is quite pale, looking as if she'd not worked in the sun for along time. Height: 5 foot 6 inches Weight: Around 125lbs Muscle Build: She is slender and her muscles are generally undefined. She does not look perticularly weak, but you'd never say she looked strong. General Body Shape: A well shaped pert Bust (though not overly large), and slim waist and curved hips. Her legs are most of her height, being long and shaped, showing more muscle build than her arms. (Base Charisma 20-23, Average Charisma 25-35). Personal Description A small framed, attractive young women, she smiles back at you when she sees you looking at her....... Those that have known Lisa in the past might notice that she looks younger than before. Now looking no older than 21 and most would probably guess her age at more the 19 mark. Her skin is flawless, not a single mark, freckle or scar. Her hair silken falls around her face like waves of red, often across her eyes to be brushed aside and return quickly. Lisa walks with clear well placed steps, hips swinging as she moves. When she moves through snow or rain, she seems to step between the drops/flakes never getting wet. While her name may easily be linked to the Rash Brewery or the Cadbridge University Teaching staff, her face is not. Its almost impossible to find her features captured anywhere, so she is only recoginsed by those who know of her. Weave Presence Those sensitive to the weave will see the wake she leaves in it as she moves. The swirling colours of the weave rush and flee from her as she passes through it. Its clear to anyone sensitive in seeing such things that she is awake and alive with the Weave. To those blind to the magic of the world, she appears as she appears. A young, pretty, but otherwise normal young girl. Known Lore about Lisa (most people would know) Lisa Linton, Owner of Rash Brewery. Known for producting and Exporting Rash Ale (Probably the best Ale in the Empire) Sold across the island and at many port towns of the Mainland. She is known to have set up buisness with Shara of the Free Spirits, as co-manager of the inn. She has links to The Stormwatchers, though her actual position and power in the group is up for debate. Most would who know of Lisa, know shes a Mage of some ability, though with all things rumour sometimes makes her sound godly, or like a child playing tricks with lights. Most would describe her as a charming flirty unobtainable beauty, who seems far to young to be running a business. Though a few people, who have seen her lose her temper would describe her with much more harsh words. In general, the talk of her would paint a good picture, of someone kind and gentle. Lisa has taught at the Cadbridge University on and off through the last 15 or more years. She is known to teach subjects exploring the physical nature of the weave, and has been seen arguing with senior members of the teaching staff more than once. The students generally like her, the male ones even more. Over all its farly hard to find a bad opinion of Lisa, though if you look hard enough theres always rumours. People with links to the underworld would know Lisa is often known to hire people with shady skills for shady deals. Lisa is always buying rare or odd artifacts, no matter their size or condition. The less known about their true use, the more she has been known to pay for them. Biography Owner of the Rash Brewery which is located in north Treegum. She is a powerful sorceress. Lisa came from a small town that no longer exists. You used to be able to find it by following the shore south, a small farming community with a central village, population maybe 100 families. Its not quite known why Lisa came to Treegum, but it was sometime during the Thrun occupation. She fell in with the late Rashard, owner of the brewery at the time. He took her in, and under his teaching learnt the ways of buisness. Over time her inate abilities grew stronger, and still it is speculated at her real level of power. Some have reported huge levels of magical abilities, while others scoff and think he a simple buisness owner in a back water wash of a town. Lisa still lives in Treegum, though she has extended absences with which she travels to the mainland to over see the export of her ale. Links to other Charcters: Rashard: First Person Lisa met in Treegum, became Lover and Father in one. Was adored by Lisa up to the time of his death. She took over his brewery, Rash Brewery after his death, and errected a statue to him in the main bar. Slick: Teacher and Friend to Lisa in her early years, close to her until he attempted to kill her. She survived, events of those days are sketchy at best. Sarah Kellei and Kasak: Lisa blames them for the death of Rashard. Zin: Father to Juilet Linton Delad: At times employed by Lisa in the brewery Artemis Ma'Forr Gatts Thalales Darkshine: Helped found the Eye of the Storm with Thal, and is still part owner of the building, if a silent partner in the guild Story: I am my Pain, Its all I am "In the eye mind the world flares with shapes and imaginations that only the indivdual can see. What one set makes real and alive, another is blinded too, unable to see even the glimour of what is there. The lines flowed about her, thin channels of light like pulsing wires of life slipping through everything from the dark shapes of the ignorant to the glowing bodies of mages and the pulsing forms of wizards. She watched a flash travel down, a white spark on a glowing Translucent red, slipping under a line of brilliant blue and under a passing hue of purple. It slipped through a dark shape and out the other side, slipping from the red to a green, and spiriling into the mysts of the second sight. To stand like this and watch the weave to watch the lines bend and twist, and hear their call, was so calming like nothing else she felt. Like the touch of a lovers hand on her shoulder. She bit down on her teeth, the weave flaring a moment around her responding to the pain burried in her heart. No, no not like a lover, she decided. Like a mother losts. The weave seemed to relax, as did her mouth, echoing almost a sigh in ripples of yellow and orange about her form. She often wondered if the women she'd never known whos life had been given for hers, if she'd have liked the person her daughter had become. But what hope had she had, with her father and his close minded ways. He had never understood her, he had always feared her! The weave flashed a briliant red flexing as if to escape her, cables twisting together like killed rainbows. His cold words, his hidding her. What had he expected from her! What did he really think would happen. That she could forgive him, oh he'd thought that once, oh how he'd begged that the word witch was not meant in hate. How he'd weeped and pleaded as she looked down on him. She could remember the smell of his sweat the smell of his fear. So you knew what I felt you old bastard, but it was never enough for you, never will I be appeased for the past. Even your death will not breath the betrayal out of me. The world became of blue the lines softening to almost sky light shade, as she clamed down. The image of him at her feet, crumped and dead. Broken like a toy, the strings cut. Carrying him out to the field, and placing him in the unmarked grave. Weeping softly, before she looked up to the comming dawn. The sun, if her chest had been a cannon, she would have shot her heart apon it. But the image lit by the coming spilling warmth, the town, her home waking from sleep. And suddenly she was hit with a rage beyound anything, and she sees herself leaving the graveside the weave building around her swirling like a whirlwind as she stalked down the hill. As if a force of destiny she advanced on her childhood, on the fear that had driven her for so long. At the eye of the storm she stood, and the village burned in the glory of the weave. She cut her sight back, so all she saw was the lines, and the dark shapes, all she knew of the real world were the screams and cries. The weave calling to her, begging to be let loose. This was what it was, this is what power was, this is who she was. The weave and her were not seperate, they were not different, they were the same, always one. A creature of light and one of flesh, born together in the pain of a new borns cry as the gasp of life left a woman who'd lived only to see the flesh come forth. And then she remembered, like she had then, pausing in the whirls of the lines, the twists of the fate. She'd remembered the soft patter of rain, the leaves falling. Her scream as a blade slammed into her heart, no not hers, but it might as well been. He'd staggered back, her life, her teacher, her all. He was falling, falling and there was nothing she could do, nothing. The weave would not help her, it mocked her it taunted her. It whispered of death a hissing sound of demons born of faith and she screamed in the memory, as she ran from those she could not face. As the fire consumed all that had been her hope all that had been her. Her heart torn in two she felt the pain and the ground blurred and she ran, and she watched the sword strike again only it was her chest and she fell back into the pillar of fire screaming like a child begging the weave for help but it would not, it called out that it would, oh it would, but not now. Not then, no not then. She blinked a few times. The lines slowly faded from view, and a road appeared in front of her, a worn track of mud. Fennie talking to someone over the table, laughing about something. She ran a hand through her soft hair, brushing some from her face, it only fell back as it had before, but the action soothed her. Calmed her. Her hand rested abover her heart, as if to hold it, to squeeze it through her chest. Looking down at it, she let it fall limply to her side." Story: Rash Ale, Probably the best Ale in the Fractured Empire In a dream everything has that twisted slanted feel, like the world had been shifted and your eyes covered with jelly. But you never seem to notice it at the time, everything seems normal, constant, as it should be. In the dream the rain poured, falling like rocks smashing huge gobblest of mud up into the air that fell to the ground with a spray of brown. The ground around her feet became slick and she found her feet sinking. Some where in the distance someone was screaming, as she pulled at her feet slopping them from the almost liquid like ground the grass floating above a sea of brown muck, that seemed to want to swollow her whole. The scream was louder, nearer, and her eyes darted about. Growing from the fog hazzed by the falling water, rose a huge castle of black stone. A scream racked her, and her hands grabbed her ears, her feet sinking more. A crack ran up the side of the clad stone and split it, half falling away, so that with a rumble there was nothing but a ruin. A huge raw, and she turned to see a beast of a devil, 20 feet tall wings stretched back in fire, mouth dripping with teeth. An urgency rose in her, and she pulled at her legs, grabbing at her knees and using all her strength to break free. But the water of the rain crashing into her, forced her to one knee, the mud splashing up into her face. She Looked up through her dirty, tangled hair to the ruin she saw the beast in battle with a tiny bird. It swooped in and pecked at it, drawing blood from its massive muscular form, untill in ran like a river from its body soaking into the mud, turning the soup about her thick and stick with it. The stench making her gag. The creature fell backward, crying out a death rattle that surfed down in visable shock waves, as it crashed into the mud sinking from sight. The scream cried out again, and she tried hard to move, to go to the voice. She had to reach the voice she had too. It was more important than anything, more important that life. And she had a knife in her hand, and was cutting at her legs, ripping at her own flesh. cutting and hacking as the screams continued the world becoming more about sound. The hiss and splash of ran consuming her ears as the sound of the voice calling for her, repeating her name over and over again filled her soul and shoock her very being. But she could not even cut her flesh right, her leg stayed in once peace. The pain racing through her limbs and muscles tearing at her nerves. Catching a movement to her right, he head snapped to the side as a face grew from the darkness of the rain. A horrid smiling purple demon, teeth like razors, eyes like daggers. Her mind went wild, she tried to move back, but she was stuck held fast. And a moment latter a hammer fell burning with fire from a half seen purple hand, and smashed into her face, the world flashed red.... ... And she sat up straight in bed. The silk sheets clung to her sweaty naked body as she sat there panting, reaching for the water-jug by her bedside.